Sleep Syrup
by Harmlessly Weird
Summary: When the sleep syrup begins kicking in, worries and jealousies arise.


**I decided that arenas are numbered.**

_Peeta Mellark, Arena 74_

I blink. Katniss has a handful of berries mushed up in her hand. They're slightly purplish, and thick juice pools in her palm. Little green flecks dot the mess.

"I've brought you a treat," she says sweetly. "I found a new patch of berries a little farther downstream."

I'm not really hungry, but she seems to really want me to eat these, so I open my mouth and she gives me the first swallow. They taste slightly familiar, and very sweet. I say so.

"Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them." She prods my lips with the mush. "Haven't you had them before?" There is a pepperminty undertone to them, something unfamiliar.

"No. But they taste familiar. Sugar berries?" I've never heard the name. Some kind of bad memory is trying to associate itself with the taste.

"Well, you can't get them in the market much," she says conversationally. "They only grow wild." Another swallow. My vision is going foggy, probably from so much sugar entering my system after so long.

"They're sweet as syrup," I say. A warning bell goes off in my head. "Syrup."

Everything clicks into place. Why they tasted so familiar, why the juice was so thick, why they're so sweet, the problems with my sight…she's feeding me sleep syrup.

I try to spit them out, but she has my mouth covered. I'm forced to swallow. Dark tendrils cross my vision.

I want to tell her not to sacrifice herself for me, that it's insanity, but I black out before I can.

_Gale Hawthorne, 241 Rain Way, District 12_

I watch her pour the vial into her handful of berries and mint, watch her feed them to that boy.

Irrational fury runs through me. I can tell exactly what she's thinking by looking at her face. She's going to put him to sleep, then put her own life on the line, risking everything to get him that _medicine_. Ugh. There was a time when she'd only do that for Prim, me, or her mother. Katniss is either softening up, or she's really in love with the baker boy. Or both.

I've loved Katniss for a while now, or at least had a very painful crush on her. This boy claims eleven years of admiration, but he never knew her. I did.

I watch him. It takes him forever to see Katniss's over-casual demeanor, and by the time he does it's too late, he's asleep. She just looks at him sadly.

The fury is fading away. I will Katniss not to be this stupid, not to get herself killed for _him_, but she just pulls the blanket over him and kisses his forehead.

_Cinna Remus, Training Center, Room 12F, Capitol_

I watch sadly as my girl on fire feeds him the sleep syrup, then lovingly leaves him tucked in like a child. She steals away, and the camera lingers on Peeta for a moment.

Peeta and I were friendly. He was Portia's kid to take care of, but I was the one that showed him the roof, the one that first guessed at his love when I told them to hold hands. I don't want him to die. I want Katniss and him to both be victors, fixed up for us to light on fire again.

I get up and turn off the TV. If Katniss dies at the feast, which there is a chance might happen, I don't want to be watching. I don't want to watch this anyway. I can see straight through the barbarism of the Games. I hate them with a passion.

I pace for a while, then turn the TV back on, giving in to my anxiety. Katniss is running through the woods, taking light steps that hardly whisper. I find myself sending a silent prayer for both of them.

_Haymitch Abernathy, Training Center, Room 12D, Capitol_

Stupid smart girl. Just like me. She got the message quick.

I take a swig of this strange Capitol spirit and watch, eyes glued to the screen, as Katniss makes her way through the woods, toward the Cornucopia.

For the hundredth time, I wonder if this was the right choice. I convince myself it is. The one way to save _both_ their lives. This will win them enough sponsors to win one way or another.

Convincing myself is hard work. I'm tired. And the normal foggy haze I get from alcohol isn't arriving with this. In frustration, I throw the fancy crystal bottle across the room and it shatters across the shiny lacquered floor, yellowish liquid spraying everywhere and soaking the upholstery. Oh well. Those pretty young Avoxes will clean it up. It's their job, serving a victor.

I want to shout. There's no way I'm going to stay sane if these two, the only two I've almost helped win, die. I'll go off the deep end.

For a moment, I think about sending her a gift, but decide against it. There's nothing I can do to help her now. I finally just lie back, watch Katniss run through the woods…

**Review! :)**


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